


Teenage Dream (You and Your Hand)

by simplyprologue



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:06:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2614448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyprologue/pseuds/simplyprologue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Will McAvoy wakes up alone. And one time he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teenage Dream (You and Your Hand)

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Yeah so this is easily the dirtiest thing I've ever written, which is saying something since I've archived almost 600,000 words on this website, and _a lot_ of them are smutty. I have no idea where the idea came from, just that it was very much encouraged by Emily, Lisa, and Meg. And thus, it exists. 
> 
> Titles of the songs the lyrics are taken from are at the end of the fic. Minor spoilers for season three.

**1.** **Baby, I want to hit it in the worst way / Schemin' on the ass on the first day / (Don’t stop)**

She’s on top of him, all circling hips and swollen nipples and bouncing breasts, looking down on him with hooded eyes. They’re in his old apartment in midtown, in his old bedroom, which was dark and masculine until she bought a new duvet cover and new lamps for the nightstands. Mac is younger and thinner, her hair shorter and bangs cropped differently, her eyes bold and upfront and all-knowing, everything about her that Will remembers in contrast to the woman he met today.

Scraping her nails down his chest she arches her back, biting her lip through a throaty moan.

And it’s perfect, and she’s perfect, clenching down on his cock as she rolls her hips.

Her hands are warm, and everywhere, on him and in her hair and palming her breasts and it’s almost like two perfect years piled into one soft glow blur and he’s _so_ close, and when Mac slides a hand down so she can rub her clit he—

Wakes up.

Throbbing hard.

Twenty minutes before his alarm on day two of the Return of MacKenzie. Not that the sudden and visceral reminder of her betrayal helps his raging erection any. That he handles himself, in the shower.

 

 

**2\. Uh, I wanna see your legs shake / Take you to the crib, we can fuck till the bed break**

The dress, black and satin and clingy, is on his floor. MacKenzie is pressed up against him, left in sheer lace and nude thigh-highs, unbuckling his belt. Until his mind fast-forwards, through fingers clenching in hair and breathless kisses, his tongue running along the top of her mouth, her hands plucking the knot out of his bowtie before ripping the halves of his shirt apart, sending buttons skittering across the floor.

Then his mind jumps forward again, to him down on his knees in front of her where she’s been thrown onto the bed, tasting her. In his dream her folds are already wet, her arousal on his lips and chin and nose and her thighs press in against his ears when she comes.

_Loudly._

And he makes her do again, and again, like Wade can’t, because absolutely fucking _no one_ knows MacKenzie McHale as well as Will McAvoy.

Then he’s on top of her, fucking the insides of her thighs raw as her face and chest flushes red, eyes dilating as he drives her lust-mad. The headboard hitting the wall with a solid rapport is a salient detail to his sleeping mind, and for a moment that subsumes his attention before Mac’s cries grow ragged, her nails biting into his ass and she’s coming and he is too.

And groans into his pillow, panting.

“Fuck.”

He feels like a goddamn twelve-year-old, waking up sticky, covered in sweat, and in search of fresh sheets.

 

 

**3\. Last night / While making love to you / I saw the sun, the moon / The mountain and the rivers / I saw heaven when I made / Sweet love to you**

Her leg hooks up over his hip, pulling him in closer until they’re lying on their sides rocking together, face to face. Or more importantly, her breasts pushed up against his chest, her lips inches from his.

But the angle isn’t right from her, so he lays Mac down onto her back and keeps one of her legs arched over his hip. Gasping, she reaches down to grip his thigh as he pushes into her from the side, uses the hand on the arm not bracing himself up (although he feels weightless, always does in these dreams, in bed with Mac) to rub tight circles into the bundle of nerves at the meeting of her thighs.

 _I love you_ , she sighs, her eyes bright. _I love you, Will._

His arousal surges.

This time he pulls himself up short, awakening before he has the chance to say it back, because _he’s_ the one fucking it up this time. Bringing Brian fucking Brenner into the newsroom. How in the hell did he think that was going to end well for him?

He threw the debate.

What does that even mean?

Trying to ignore the tenting in his boxers, he reaches for his phone on his nightstand and, barely heeding any attention to checking the time, calls Mac.

 

 

**4.** **Every time I close my eyes / I wake up feeling so horny... I don't give a damn about nothin' else / Freakin' you is all I need**

He never really gets how it starts, but tonight he does—a perfect broadcast, Mac in his ear through the kind of live interview that gets your blood pumping, and she follows him into his office.

Then suddenly it’s _later_ , and the bullpen is empty, and he has her seated on his desk. Her thighs are warm and so are her breasts and he’s moving her clothes out of the way and a flash in the brainpan later they’re both on his office chair, Mac in his lap and on his cock and _his_ voice in _her_ ear, for once. His fingers tweak her clit and she pushes her back against his chest, moaning happily, bearing down onto his erection.

Dream Will can hold off forever, playing with Mac’s breasts, teasing her nipples, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on her neck and shoulder. (It helps, of course, that in this position she can’t reach any part of him at all.) And dream MacKenzie—

Well, she’s supple and pliant and moaning his name—her airy alto is strained and raspy, _Will, oh fuck, Will, baby, please_ —and so, so wet.

 _You were spectacular tonight,_ he says, lips brushing against her ear. His fingers run through her wetness, to where his erection is stretching her entrance back up to her clit, rubbing intently now. _I never stopped loving you._

Mac pants out a low whine, her hips rocking absently as she chases her orgasm.

He gets her there. _Oh_ , he gets her there, and Mac moans out his name on a high-note as she clenches down on him and then—

Nina rolls over, her arm hitting him in the face, and then _he’s_ panting like a teenage boy in the backseat of his dad’s car, praying he doesn’t come in his pants. For a few minutes he tries reciting baseball statistics and imagining a few members of the Supreme Court naked, before groaning quietly and gingerly getting out of bed.

Leaving his… whatever the hell Nina is, asleep while he goes into the bathroom and resentfully plucks a handful of tissues out of the box next to the sink. It’s been two years since Mac came back. Five years since she walked out on him. 

At some point she is going to have to _stop_ having this effect on him.

After he rubs it out in the shower, anyway.

 

 

**5\. Girl your wish is my command / I submit to your demands / I'll do anything, girl you need only ask**

MacKenzie is spread out on her back on top of the anchor desk, the screens lit up under her, illuminating her curves, the golden hues to her dark hair. They’re past Cloud Nine, even Cloud Ten, they’re probably on Eleven or whatever the summit is, after the Genoa broadcast.

He’s still in his suit, although his tie is around Mac’s neck, his pants around his thighs as he gives it to her. Thighs pressing in around his waist, the heels of her Louboutins dig into his lower back and Christ does he love the pain. And she knows it, smiling up at him before biting her lower lip.

 _You did good,_ she breathes, content but unsatiated. _Real good._

Her fingers curl into the front of designer dress shirt (this is a dream, so he doesn't have to worry about wrinkles or creases or unfortunate stains) and she pulls him down to ride his mouth against hers. An exchange of breath, really, as he thrusts into her over and over.

 _I think I’m still doing good,_ he retorts, _unless I’m reading things wrong._ He feels her tighten around him, and he smirks, nipping at her lower lip. _But I don’t think I am._

Hands sliding up under his jacket, under the back of his shirt, she smiles back at him. _Definitely not, Billy. Now, come on, harder… I don’t want you to ever do the news again without thinking of making love to me on this desk._

Laughing, he cups her ass, pulling her precariously to the edge of the anchor desk. _That is definitely not going to be a problem.  
_

His mind keeps him there, wondering why they haven’t done this before because fuck everyone, he’s the face of ACN and she’s his EP and his _MacKenzie_ and they can do this if they want, especially after tonight. Bending his knees he finds more leverage, pounding into her until she throws her head back, and he entire galaxies of stars form when he closes his eyes, his orgasm hitting him hard.

When he opens his eyes, he’s looking out the windows of his bedroom, his hands twisted in his sheets.

“God fucking—”

The alarm clock tells him its a indecent hour in the morning in angry red numbers. He wants to call her. Which is a bad idea on so many levels, half because of the hour and half because his cock is still twitching and semi-hard. 

This has gotten out of hand.

Literally.

If this is what a few hours of having Mac pressed against his side at a bar (it’s more than that, he knows, but refuses to think about) does to him…

 

 

**6.** **You make me feel / Like I'm livin' a / Teenage dream / The way you turn me on**

He’s going to come. Her lips are wrapped around his erection, her palms smoothing up his thighs as she takes all of him in, sucking until her cheeks hollow out and _holy fuck._ Moaning helplessly he reaches down to thread his fingers into her hair, cradling her head.

Hips jerking upwards he does his best to hold on, debating the merits of just letting go and Mac knowing how well she completely owns him, but Will figures he’s already clued her into that part, so maybe he should just—

Eyes blinking open, he realizes that he’s not dreaming. They're actually together, waking up for the first time in their brand new apartment on Central Park South, and he can feel the platinum band of her engagement ring pressing against his leg. Mac has actually woken him up with a blow job, which is something that did  _happen_ on occasion when they were first together, but he supposes that not until this morning that she felt it was an appropriate method of getting him to wake up.  _  
_

(He'll admit, just barely, that he _may_ be grumpy most days until lunchtime.) 

Moaning unabashedly loud, he tries to loosen his grip on her hair and hears her giggle from under the covers, and it grows louder when he pulls the sheet from over her head. Her lips, pink and wet, part over the head of his erection and she slowly moves her head up and down his lap before pulling back. His cock throbs mournfully. 

Wide eyes blinking up at him, she smiles.

"Good morning, Billy." 

**Author's Note:**

> Will and Mac's sex playlist is, as follows:
> 
> 1\. "Doin' It", by LL Cool J  
> 2\. "Play", by David Banner  
> 3\. "Last Night", by Az Yet  
> 4\. "Freekin' You", by Jodeci  
> 5\. "I'll Make Love to You", by Boyz II Men  
> 6\. "Teenage Dream", by Katy Perry
> 
> And, um, thanks for reading!


End file.
